


Other Paths I thru VI

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alex drops by to have a chat with Walter.





	Other Paths I thru VI

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Other Paths I: Lucky Men by Te

21 September 1998  
Other Paths I: Lucky Men  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: Boy, do they ever not belong to me. If I get sued, they're welcome to *all* the Def Leppard tapes and other mistakes I made in the 80s.  
Spoilers: None, really.  
Summary: Alex drops by to have a chat with Walter.   
Ratings Note: NC-17 for m/m interaction.  
Author's Note: I dreamed about this. Twice. I'm just trying to purge. This could be considered a sequel to "Nameless" and "Distance and Possession," and, well, almost any one of the weird ass M/Ks I've been writing lately.   
Acknowledgments: To Spike, Rye, and Nancy for *marvelous* beta in the face of my many neuroses and *ahem* artistic temperament. Thanks also to J. and Carol for many helpful comments.  
Feedback: PLEASE. 

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths I: Lucky Men  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Skinner was dreaming about a hanging. His own. The landscape was sere and bleeding more shades of beige than he'd ever thought he could distinguish. The stubbled, dusty men watching him had cold, dead eyes of a uniformly poisonous olive. Being hung was surprisingly painless, and, despite the breeze, he wasn't swinging. He didn't think he was that heavy....

Eight pairs of olivine eyes blinked twice, slowly and evenly.

For some reason, that was the absolute worst part of the whole experience, and he set about jerking his weight in an attempt to snap his own damned neck. 

"Stop that."

Abruptly, Walter realized that he wasn't asleep, though he certainly felt muzzy enough to be so.... Eight dusty, stubbled men resolved into one, not-so-dusty, but definitely stubbled Alex Krycek sitting crosslegged on the foot of his bed several feet away. He twisted his neck again, not so vehemently. Completely free.

His arms, on the other hand...

He looked up to find himself cuffed neatly and firmly to the braces he'd installed just inside the southeast corner of the ceiling. The manacles were fur-lined, the chains thick and strong. It had been a wilder, emptier time. 

Walter sighed. This was bound to be painful and embarrassing or, at the very least, tiresome.

"What do you want, Krycek?"

"Just a place to stay for the night, really. The land is dangerous these days."

"And you're in my apartment. Why?"

A moderately off-centered shrug. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Walter stared at Krycek for a long moment. The face was as placidly smooth and innocent as always. 

//Born liar.//

Walter shifted, pleased to find he didn't feel the slightest bit strained despite the awkward position. He enjoyed a moment of quietly smug pride that all those hours of weight-training had paid off before it occurred to him that his feet were firmly planted on a scuffed leather ottoman. It had originally gone with one of the world's most comfortable chairs, lost in the horrible Nephew Incident. Walter hadn't had the heart to ditch the ottoman, too. He tried to get his mind to choose one particular question to ask his apparent houseguest/captor, but couldn't quite get it to settle down and *go* with something.

It was irritating not to be able to feel irritable about it. He did his best to *glare* his questions at Krycek, but was morbidly sure he looked as bemused as he felt.

Surprisingly, Krycek didn't look nearly as self-satisfied as it seemed he should. 

"What? Oh, sorry. Don't worry about the muzziness, I slipped 5 mg of Ambien into your takeout. Mild as sleeping pills go, but I'm guessing you're pretty damned stoned right now."

Walter nodded and with a pleasantly nauseating roll he was back on the horse.... Horse. Somebody was supposed to smack the horse.

"Waaaalterrr..."

Well, that was something Krycek had never been allowed to call him. Even when they were... whatever they had been. Back in the saddle, as it were. 

"Why... why did you...?"

The words *felt* nice rolling off his thick tongue, but.... Walter decided Krycek hadn't been telling him the whole truth about just what he'd been dosed with. Perhaps to get him to try to escape so Krycek could beat him. Of course, the younger man could have killed him easily already, but.... The idea that the headache he was developing was far too muffled in inebriation to be bothersome was an item of unique horror.

"The ottoman?"

Walter blinked in a way he sincerely hoped implied the affirmative.

"Well, I really didn't want you to be uncomfortable..."

The words were allowed to dangle in the chill, air-conditioned room for a while. Krycek continued to stare, a flat ophidian stare that gradually developed a small measure of discomfort. The younger man appeared to be worried about something. 

"You've never taken any sleeping pills, have you?"

Walter decided it was a bad idea to shake his head.

"Shit. Well, it's probably a very good idea for you to talk. Don't move too much, just talk. Get it out. You already slept for...." A moment while the younger man checked his watch. "About five hours. You should start getting *relatively* sober, soon."

"All right." The... serenity... was a trial. "Why are you here?"

"I already told you, I needed a place to stay."

Walter sighed. "So you chose here. Despite everything."

Krycek nodded, smirked. "You could say *because* of everything. The last time wasn't so bad, once you got those punches out of your system--"

"And you couldn't just let me sleep it off while you did... whatever it was you're here to do?"

"Sleep. And I did sleep. I'm awake now."

"Mulder kicked you out?"

Krycek frowned, eyed him narrowly. Walter hadn't meant to say that. It was a distinct relief when the younger man simply snorted and shook his head. 

"I shoulda known you'd know about that.... You're a player, too. Or were. I'm curious, though..."

"Yes?"

Walter really didn't want to be having this conversation, but just beyond the unpleasant focus of Mulder getting fucked with apparent regularity by Krycek was that beige-on-beige-on-beige slice of hell his subconscious apparently identified with drug-induced sleep.

"How did you know?"

"He's been walking around with this permanent look of.... of smug satisfaction and guilt for about 4 months now. Scully's fingers twitch when I call them in for briefings."

Krycek put his head in his hands and shook with that brand of stifled laughter that only the very private and deceitful can produce. There was a definite edge of hysteria to it, and it lasted long enough that Walter couldn't entirely convince himself that it was merely his own fractured time sense that was turning the minutes to taffy. Finally, finally, Krycek looked up at him again. The thick lashes were damp; the smile, rueful.

"Yeah, that's Mulder, all right. My Fox. You seem far too calm for this, even for the drugs."

"Which of you am I supposed to be angry at, Krycek?"

Quirk of finely turned eyebrow and Walter remembered what it had been like to run his tongue over it after they'd fucked; remembered Alex's shameless giggle.

//Alex. He'd been Alex, then.// 

But his words had earned him a momentarily unguarded look of speculation, shuttered quickly as he flowed to a stand, and looked up into Walter's face. 

"I'm not here to hurt you, you know. You don't have to try to flatter me."

"Why are you here, again?"

"Just needed a place to stay... that didn't have a Mulder. Why didn't you ever fuck him, anyway?"

Walter laughed, then. Long, loud, and helplessly. Krycek looked bitter but merely cocked his head to the side, patiently. Moved a little further into the older man's unprotected personal space and damned if he didn't smell the same.... Shift and *now* he was swaying and it was that first time...

But not the *real* first time, just the first time his favorite little rentboy had shown up, freshly scrubbed and legal, in his office. He'd had a solid thirty minutes to calm down from the incipient heart attack that had threatened upon viewing the picture in the file, but still...

"Come on back, Waaaalterrr..."

"Do you have any idea how irritating that is?" His eyes swam back into focus, into the beam of the world's sexiest smirk. "Strike that, of course you do. You always did." The smirk faltered. Only a little, but it was worth it.

"Tell me why. I know he wants you. Says he has to beat off every time you growl at him." 

The bitterness, oddly enough, was... muted.

"Why do you care, Krycek?"

"You have something better to do than explain it to me? While you're hanging from the ceiling, that is." Walter was still being assaulted by the almost-too-sweet scent that was Krycek without the leather.

"You could just suck me off. I always did like your mouth."

Krycek snorted again, grabbed Walter by the crotch.

"I really, really don't think the Ambien agreed with you, *sir*."

Walter had to smile a little ruefully. "I suppose not."

"*Tell* me." 

In just the same husky whine that used to belong --exclusively, he'd thought -- to "Please let me come, sir."

Of course, the 'sirs' had never been entirely convincing. Krycek had the air of someone who desperately wanted to be a sub but could never quite pull it off. All he had was a basic laziness when it came to interpersonal relationships, a desire to let someone else handle it, for a while, until he'd stored up enough energy to rip the unlucky top's soul out for the offense of taking up the insincere request.

Walter had understood it from the moment Krycek had walked into the office. The knowledge made the eventual discovery of the younger man's true loyalties, if not especially comfortable -- there remained, always, the threat of tapes, somewhere --then at least not as world-shattering as it could have been. You fuck a liar, you underestimate him, you get what you deserve. None of the above, however, made the voice any less pleasant to listen to. Any easier to deny. 

"Cabin Boy Syndrome, Krycek."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Those old pirate books for boys.... The captain always had some annoyingly plucky and nosy little kid hanging about to be a 'valet.'"

"I always assumed the kids were fucktoys in tights."

"Knickers? Anyway. That goes without saying. *However*, even taking the sex into account, they were always getting into so much trouble. And rarely ever even being flogged for it."

Some part of his brain had, apparently, found its own sick little rhythm to follow. Walter really didn't have it in him to censor at this point. A stirring, oddly disconnected, and he looked down to discover Krycek's hand had never left the front of his boxers. Perhaps an attempt to wake up the sleeper. The warmth was definitely appreciated. He realized he was still talking:

"... reason for it. I mean, why didn't the captains ever run the little bastards through?"

Krycek looked like he was just that close to more hysterical giggles. Walter had a moment to appreciate the fact he'd managed to share the surrealism of his experience, somehow.

"It had to be some reason other than the sex and occasional flogging, you're saying."

Walter nodded, felt another shift -- much less pleasant, he was sobering -- and he was back in the office.

"The way I see it. *sir*, it behooves both of us to keep our mouths shut."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, bo--Krycek."

"Of course not." Sleek and smooth as the obscenity of gel that had been his hair. "On the other hand, I wouldn't be averse to continuing our... arrangement. Sir."

"The government already pays you a salary, I'm not subsidizing you anymore." He'd thought it was a sleazy little attempt at blackmail, began stockpiling his internal treasury of markers, but...

"I don't want your money. Sir."

And so it had continued, another few months of motels and, God help him, the office. Alex on his knees. Alex bent over something, anything. Alex's pretty little ass swollen and pink from his hand....

"Waaaalterrr..."

Krycek was rubbing him off. It was definitely starting to work. There was want in those wide, wide eyes, and a wealth of memory. 

"Those boys, Alex..."

As expected, the use of the first name earned him an affectionate little squeeze. 

"Yeah?"

"They had something. Fairy princes, perhaps. In any case, they wrapped those sea captains right around their soft little fingers..." And the strong, clever fingers were making him harder and harder. "... some measure of psychological witchcraft. Emotional fuckery. Something. Apple-cheeked vortexes of need and obsession.

"Mulder has the Syndrome."

//My. I *am* delusional.

//Stoned. Just, stoned.//

Alex was silent, kneading him steadily, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"You really believe that?"

"What about you? You're here by choice. He didn't kick you out, you ran away."

Alex finally pulled away, settled himself back on the bed with one absent lap at his own hand. The loss of heat was more than a little upsetting. 

"Cabin boys. Fairy princes."

"Yes."

"There's a joke in there, somewhere." 

"Probably several."

"But it's too fucking true." Alex sighed, an unconscious act of -- perhaps perfectly justifiable -- melodrama. 

"Well, you did ask why I never got involved with him. I spent 17 years married to a beautiful, brilliant, needy, paranoid psycho. Mind you, I certainly gave her reason to be all of those things..." Small sound of amusement from the bed and Walter couldn't help but feel a moment of kinship. "But I didn't --and still don't -- need another one. As relationships go, our little... arrangement... was probably healthier. In the long run."

"You still want him, though."

It wasn't a question, Walter didn't bother to answer.

"Fine. *Do* you want him?"

"Are you trying to hand the man off?"

Alex gave every impression of thinking the question over seriously, but Walter thought he knew the answer already. "You couldn't if you tried. You need it now."

Sour little glance and Alex flopped back onto the bed. "It wasn't so bad at first, you know."

"I'd be more amenable to conversation if you unchained me, I think."

A snort. "Always about your needs, isn't it?" But Alex was flowing off the bed again, producing a key from God knows where and Walter's arms were falling with an undignified thud. "Please don't try anything, I'm too tired to do anything but shoot you dead."

"You should probably sleep more, then."

"That's it, no more drugs for you. Here, where do you want to sit? The chair?" None too subtle glance at his burgeoning erection. "The bed?"

"Chair's fine for now, Alex." 

"Anything you say, sir." It was, as always, far more convincing when the younger man was conscious of his own self-mockery. Alex helped him to the wingback in the corner, the swell and roll of the carpeting making him wonder just where his own cabin boy was. The loss of altitude upon sitting made the world a lot more sensible, though.

"Now you were saying?"

"Would you like a drink? Water or something else safe. Drinking alcohol would probably be a profoundly bad idea for you. For me, now..."

Alex was less asking than babbling to himself. "Get me some water. Get yourself some Scotch."

The younger man nodded absently and Walter drifted off to the sounds of cabinets opening and closing around the apartment, a lone car alarm far, far below. A mouth on his cock, oddly cool yet... burning? Walter looked down to find Alex on his knees, a vision that had never once lost its appeal. He was holding a tumbler half-emptied of scotch on the rocks just to the side, and lapping and sucking. Walter decided that anything that allowed him to just settle back and *enjoy* being blown, with a bare minimum of the urgency, was a good thing. 

"You really like waking me up, don't you?"

Flat-tongued rasp along the underside and Alex was standing, setting the scotch on the dresser to retrieve the older man's water. A shrug while Walter sipped, a casual and none-too-thorough attempt to slip the older man's erection away.

"You know how it is.... Take your joys where you can find them."

Walter nodded, shrugged. "You're just stalling because you don't want to talk about Mulder."

"Can't a man suck cock without an ulterior motive?"

Walter chuckled a lot more lazily than he intended to, but the effect was pleasant. "Not if he's you."

A twist that, on any other mouth, would be unpleasant and Alex was settling himself at his feet with scotch firmly in hand. Walter could see the bottle settled evenly on the floor beside the younger man. He had a strong urge to pet the softly spiky hair and he indulged. Alex twisted around to smirk again, but it was gentle, and the touch was allowed.

Comfortable silence while Walter was reminded that even something as prosaically unpleasant as pins and needles could gain charm when stoned.... It had been a long time. Gradually, he became aware of his companion's voice, paradoxically softened by the liquor.

"... -ing wonderful at first. Couldn't believe it. All I had to do was get a hand on his cock one of those times he was pummeling me and it was all over. Clawing and biting at me. Sucking me down. You know, I had to tear him off? Thought I was gonna lose something important.

"Makes sense, though. All that time he spends shouting absurdities, throwing himself against brick walls.... He had to be waiting for someone to stop him."

Walter nodded, dimly aware that Alex couldn't possibly see him, knowing it didn't really matter at this point. He could never quite pull his fingers from that dark hair.

"Then there was the first time he hit me. Well, obviously not the first time, but the first time after we'd... started fucking is both crude and inaccurate. Started a relationship? Optimistic, but yeah, that's how I thought of it, then."

"I never would've considered you the romantic type, Alex."

"Yeah, well, this was supposed to be different. You'd think, being with someone like Mulder, *everything* would be different."

"Understood. Different is, of course, not always better."

"No need to make me feel twelve, Walter." Soft, musical tinkle of liquor over ice. 

"Sorry, habit once you work for the government for any length of time." Walter could almost feel the smirk. "The... legitimate... government." Brief nod and the finely shaped skull was moving, his fingers flowing through the pelt of an animal who'd condescended to taming. "But, Alex..."

"Yeah?"

"One benefit of a relationship with a man is that when he hits you, no one is going to bitch and moan if you hit him right back."

Full blown cackle. "Think that through. Just what do you think Mulder did once I hit him back, I mean really hit him?"

"Hmmm... I can think of several possibilities. None of them especially pleasant."

"The look of utter shock right afterward almost made the screaming fit worth it. Our very first argument entirely free of sexual tension. He kicked me out *that* night."

A long pause and Walter could feel Alex shifting a bit, finally settling his head on his thigh. It was at that point that Walter looked down and realized what a dissolute picture he made. Sprawled

//I wasn't made to sprawl.//

low and spread-legged, boxers gaping over a semi-hard. It made the unreality slam home in a way that unreality shouldn't be allowed to do. Abruptly, Walter saw himself inviting the other man up into his lap, perhaps pulling him close to take in one flat nipple, suck and bite until that hand pulled him close, work his cock between conveniently nude cheeks....

He settled for grunting in a vaguely sympathetic manner.

"Anyway, it didn't take long for him to set his own personal little freak squad on my trail. Tracked me down with a new bag of tricks. 'We'll work out the aggression in a structured, safe way, Alex,' he said.

"This is where that 'vortex of need' thing came in."

"I would think so, yes." Walter let his knuckles drift down along one elegant cheekbone, was gratified by the casual welcome of a nuzzle he was given.

"Never once used the safeword. Ever."

"He wouldn't, no."

Alex got up, then, and walked in that consciously steady way the very drunk have to put the vastly depleted bottle away. Walter resisted the urge to grab the younger man by the waistband of his jeans and yank him back.

//Not like he'd be able to keep his balance at this point.

//Neither can you.//

He did his best to straighten up a bit, gave up when Alex positively prowled back into the room. Walter took in the outfit for the first time. Alex was wearing -- and rumpling -- one of his dress shirts over jeans. Several buttons were undone. The eyes were burning at him. The bulge was noticeable. Despite the aborted blowjob earlier, this was the first time Walter was absolutely positive of what would happen. Just as soon as the world stopped swaying. 

A blink and Alex was leaning over him and a liquor-smoked tongue was familiarizing itself with his mouth. Drinking him for a long moment of slow-burning lust before pulling off again, pulling him up -- an experience not nearly as disorienting as he'd expected -- and pulling him over to the bed. The gentle shove that sent him to his back on the coverlet was welcome, and he propped himself on his elbows with relative ease. 

Slow and sadly awkward crawl up along his body and there was the *real* first time, anonymous motel and dirty money and all. Echoes were nothing but the ghosts of sound, though, and the flesh under the fabric was warm and needful of no one but him, for once, for real.

Hazy strip and Walter took in the changes to the form. Leaner, darker, scarred. Lovely. He indulged himself in the musk of an armpit, the salt pool of the navel. There was no point in musing on the assorted problems in this action. Alex was here, now, and it had been too long. 

"When did he stop making love to you?"

"Unngh... don't stop, Walter. And don't make me be rational."

The older man tugged at the darkly golden hairs leading down under the jeans, smiled into jumping flesh. "I'll settle for a ramble, Alex."

Drunken giggle and Alex was doing his futile best to catch him by the limited hair at his nape, tug him down and down. "Shit... I forgot what a fucking sadist you were. Ummm.... had to be right after the first time I flogged him to the point of tears...." Walter undid the jeans. "Then I... I pushed him... to his knees and fucked his face. Do... do *not* stop doing that." 

Walter pulled off with a light kiss for the straining flesh. "Jesus, Alex, even I was never that..."

The younger man groaned, let his head fall back to the pillow with a thud. "Yeah, well, I was never built for this shit, Walter. You *know* that."

Walter nodded, nuzzled the tightening sac. "So what happened when you told *him* that?" The vibrations of his voice made Alex buck and Walter wondered how the hell he'd ever lived without this.

"What, you think... you think I didn't?" Breathy and hoarse. Beautiful.

"I didn't say that, Alex..."

"Shit, I know, lick me some more.... I'll tell, I'll tell." Walter looked up and smiled, by chance Alex caught it, returned it in spades. "You're a voyeur, you know it?"

Walter caught the bobbing cock by the base, squeezed Alex into another buck. "Good thing you're an exhibitionist, hmm?"

"Yeah... yeah..."

Walter set about bathing the other man's balls with his tongue while setting a slow, even pace with his strokes. "Answer the question." The hips gained a sea roll... and that was just fine for this night. 

"Question.... question..." Alex's hand had made its way down to twine itself with his own, warm and slick. Walter had a moment to wonder if hands, given the opportunity, would have lives of their own, and then that lust-roughened voice was beginning again. "Oh, yeah... what happened... What would you have done... if I'd stripped naked in your office one day and... wriggled onto your lap? While you were... on the phone so you couldn't do a thing about it? Whispered, begged you to hurt me, spank me, fuck me?" 

The words were tortured and harsh and went straight to the older man's cock and he did his best to return the favor, lifting up the sac to go just a little further back...

"Yes! Please..."

A few firm strokes of the tongue along the perineum and Walter pulled back again, never releasing his hold on Alex's cock. He wasn't sure his hand would obey him if he tried to make it do so, anyway... The hot, heavy solidity of the thing was both welcome and addictive.

"It's... possible... that I would've pushed you off as soon as I could've hung up the phone. Ordered you to leave. Found some way to torture you later on..."

Alex leaned up on his elbow and eyed Walter with unalloyed skepticism. 

"Entirely possible. If I'd had my genitals removed earlier in the day."

"Exactly. Now lick me some more."

Walter snorted. "Yes, *sir*. But..."

An exaggerated groan. "Wha-a-a-a-at?"

He grinned as wickedly as he knew how. "Tell me more."

"You're not even going to pretend to have anything but the most prurient of interest in this, anymore, are you?"

"Well, how much bullshit can one relationship stand?"

"Good point. You lick, I'll talk."

Walter pushed Alex's knees up and apart and began to work his tongue in gradually tightening circles around the bud of the younger man's entrance. The sobbing gasps from the head of the bed suggested Alex might not be able to keep up his end of the bargain, but they gradually resolved into words.

"It... it never stopped, Walter. I swear... oh God, more... every fucking day it was 'F-fuck me, whip me, need me need me need me'.... Don't stop..."

"I won't."

As expected, the low growl against the sensitive flesh made Alex cry out. Walter wasn't sure how much longer he could drag this out. "Keep talking." As incentive, he began to tonguefuck the younger man steadily. More curses, shudders. Walter had to wrap his forearms around the leanly muscled thighs to keep Alex still.

"The only... t-time he'd ever t-touch me was to provoke me to hit him. We never... we never talk anymore. See, that's where your... theory-- Jesus, don't stop--"

"Just getting a few things we need, Alex." The younger man's pupils were almost completely dilated. As expected, it was impossible to disentangle his hand from Alex's, so Walter simply stretched to the bedside table. 

The condoms were of questionable age, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Gloved and slicked he turned his full attention to the flushed length of man laid out before him...

"About my theory?" 

... and began to work in lubed fingers. It was even harder to keep control now that he could watch the flush get ever deeper, the sinfully thick lashes flutter, the lips part with Alex's moans...

//What the hell was Mulder *thinking*?//

"Mmm, yeah.... More. Basically, we were... were wrong about the fucktoy thing." 

The uneven rise and fall of the chest a perfect reflection of the voice sliding up and down the scale.... Walter added another finger, scissor twist and Alex was bucking and screaming again.

"How so?"

"It's just... just... Oh, God, Walter *please*... and we'll worry about the irony l-later, I swear!"

It's damned near impossible to refuse a request like that. Walter fitted himself against Alex, laid the quivering thighs along his own and rocked his way in, eyes shut tight against the near-unbearable heat. Finally, sheathed in Alex, Walter leaned in for a kiss, lapping and sucking at the other man's tongue, reaching between them to stroke the mildly wilting cock back to hardness. When he could feel Alex bucking back against him he kneeled up again, looking down into eyes that managed to smile through the haze of lust.

It was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

He pulled out slow, thrust in hard. Through the flares of his own vision he watched the elegant throat arch into a bow, reached out to run a finger along the sharply defined curve.

"So... what you're saying is that... the cabin boys weren't the real fucktoys, after all?"

Alex tightened his thighs around Walter and bore down hard. "The captains, Walter. Always the captains."

The only possible response to that was to let his hips take over and lose himself in the feel -- missed far more than he'd allowed himself to admit -- of Alex, slick in his hand, tight on his cock, a litany of pleas and curses falling on his ears. And when Alex reached up and pulled him down and down into another kiss nothing else mattered at all but the hot splash on his chest and belly, the muffled cry against his tongue that sounded suspiciously like his name, and the rhythm of his own hips pulling him back to somewhere like home.

*****

Walter woke up to find himself draped, stickily and marvelously, with an Alex planting soft kisses along the center of his chest. It made his throat ache, and he pulled the younger man closer. He had to ask, though.

"What about Mulder?"

Alex stopped kissing and banged his forehead once, twice, lightly against Walter. "Can we pretend he doesn't exist this..." Brief glance toward the fully shuttered window. "... morning?"

Walter ran his hand along Alex's spine, trying not to pay attention to the twitch in his nether regions when Alex arched into the touch. "We can, but--"

"He needs to be dealt with, I know." Alex snuggled closer, trailed kisses along Walter's jawline. "Just... just later, OK?"

"I can live with that."

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~

 

* * *

 

21 September 1998  
Other Paths II: Liberty  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: Not mine, and sometimes I'm pretty thrilled about that, actually.  
Spoilers: Not a one.  
Summary: Closure.  
Ratings Note: Weak R, I'd say.   
Author's Note: A sequel to "Lucky Men," and this will probably make more sense if you read that one first.  
Acknowledgments: To Dawn Sharon, for snagging on just the words I didn't mean to say. To Spike, Nancy, and Rye for fine, fine beta. All remaining mistakes and ambiguities are entirely my own fault. 

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths II: Liberty  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex Krycek stood in the familiar hallway, and watched the familiar door. Two-thirty a.m. and the bluish, strobic flash of the television was perfectly clear under the door. 

//I hate the flickering lights, Alex.

//So... why? Every night?

//It's familiar...//

Of course. Of course. This was a dangerous place for him to be. However, that in itself was nothing new. Once, not so long ago, he'd thought that might change. Mulder wanted him, knew he wanted him, *and* admitted he wanted him. On his knees. On his back. To his face. And, God, it was good to take that mobile mouth beneath his own, catch hold of another man's -- *this* man's -- slick heat and whisper of anything, anything. 

//It wasn't supposed to be this way.//

Alex snorted at himself, but came no closer to the door that made up the breadth and scope of his vision. For a moment, he looked inside himself, sketched an approximation of the image he made. Just a man, against a wall, staring at a door. Target. Mark.

There was that first night.... Not the first night they'd fucked, though. That had been all groans and stifled howls in some anonymous warehouse. A stockpile of dinge and uselessness. No, the night *after* that one was supposed to have been the example. He'd come here, led by the taste of need, by that light, unbearable itch along his palate where Mulder's cock belonged. Oh, yeah. There was no possible chance to be smart, stay away at least a little while... He'd come right here, and he'd stood right where he was standing now...

Mulder had opened the door after -- maybe -- thirty seconds. 

//I was listening for footsteps...//

Stood there in grey boxer briefs that outlined a bulge that called his name even more effectively than the flat, darkly needful "please..." that had pulled him across the hall, pulled him into lean arms and a kiss and he'd been on his knees almost before the door was closed behind them.

After, and after again, Alex had cuddled close and the hands that had brushed him away were easily definable as playful. The stiffening.... Well, they'd hardly had time to grow accustomed to each other. And Mulder had asked him meaningless questions and they'd talked and touched -- slightly -- until the incessant morning coo of some air-rat had made Alex grab for his gun. And Mulder's simple, joyful laugh had... had...

//This is pointless.//

Alex shifted in his jacket in a manner he knew would probably be imperceptible to most. He wanted to leave, disappear and never come back here, ever. Mistakes were to be buried. But he couldn't just shoot Mulder, no matter how much appeal the idea had. 

//Just *do* it, Alex... C'mon, fuck me--

//You're not relax--

//At least I can feel you...//

There was always more business to be conducted, and Alex needed that thin coating of legitimacy Mulder retained. Stupid and messy to have done this. He had a moment to appreciate the absurdity of trying to solve as mundane a bit of a snarl as the Failed Sexual Relationship With Co-Worker.

//Take what you want. And pay for it.//

He'd learned how to patch gunshot wounds with one arm. He could take out 5 of 6 moving targets with one high powered rifle on a rainy day. And the sixth would, most assuredly, tell him everything he needed to know. 

He'd never had to fix anything like this before.... but there was Walter to be considered. 

//Walter knew, and Walter never mocked, and Walter was gentle.

//Who are you trying to convince?//

Walter Skinner and he supposed there was an inevitability to that one. If not an inevitability, then, perhaps, just a simple rightness to the oddity. There were times when Alex wondered if there had ever been a time when their lives weren't brushing in some way, however quietly. Walter had asked him to lie to him that first night, and he'd been as scrupulous as possible in that.... The thought made him smile. He'd have to ask when the older man had started appreciating the bits of honesty he'd started tossing in, here and there.

No, he'd be honest with himself, in this. There was something about all that blunt alpha maleness that inspired a bit of chesting up.... And he'd never felt imaginative enough to make up stories more shamelessly macho than some of the things he'd really had to do. Though he could, and did, embellish. There really wasn't anything like making an Easter Island idol smile. You could make mortar with all the stone dust that drifted to the ground, dance to the creaks....

This was rapidly growing even stupider. But he wanted

//a little quiet//

Walter, and Walter wanted him to end it with Mulder. 

//Do you want me to come with you?

//I'm not some... some...//

And Walter had reached out. Grabbed his arm and Alex couldn't keep the anger out of his eyes that time, but that was just fine because Walter couldn't keep the anything out of those liquid bits of chocolate and, yeah, he understood. 

So here he was. Alex crossed the narrow hall, finally. The door swung open on the second knock. Mulder had been standing right there. Of course. Perfectly executed sprawl, blocking the doorframe. Alex could push him aside, back away, or just continue to stand much too close. Anything but be comfortable. 

"I wondered how long you were just going to stand there, Krycek."

It was always easier to take a slap when you knew it was coming, so Alex just cocked his head a bit. "We need to talk, Mulder."

"Do we?"

Alex closed his eyes, opened them far too slowly to be able to play the action off as a blink. It was, of course, only reasonable that this encounter be just as ugly as everything else.

"Yes."

"When were you planning to tell me about Skinner?"

//Jesus, it's only been a few days...//

He could feel his mouth tightening. "Skinner has nothing to do with this."

Mulder snorted, turned his back and made his way into the dark apartment. Flopped on the couch and set one foot on the coffee table. Alex stood in the doorway and watched the performance of casual for a long moment before forcing himself inside. The place smelled, as always, of dust and the man himself. Once it made him ache to hold and touch and slide sweat-hot along Mulder's body...

There was something cold, and very hard, tightening around his belly. He closed the door behind him, a comfort to have something real to touch. 

"What do you want, Krycek?"

Mulder didn't even bother to look at him. 

"I just... we need..." He trailed off, unable to spout any of the cliched inanities the situation seemed to dredge from the depths of his mind. "We can't do this any more, Mulder."

"You're dumping me, Krycek?" Deceptively flat.

Alex's turn to look away. "We still have work to do, Mulder."

"Get out."

"Muld--"

"Just get out, Krycek. Everyone leaves, anyway. I have no fucking clue why I expected you to be any different."

His gut twisted, and Alex was abruptly angry. "That's what you tell all of them, isn't it?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Do you have any idea what you--"

"Get out of my apartment right. Now."

"Oh, I'll leave, Mulder. I'm just curious -- what are you gonna tell the next poor bastard you let touch you, hunh? Same thing you told me? Breathy little whisper: 'Sometimes I think I've been alone my whole life, Alex.... Everyone always leaves,' isn't that it?"

The eyes burned in the uneven blue-grey light, but the mouth was set, the lean body static in its calculated sprawl.

"I don't know, *Alex*. Somehow, I think a simple 'my lover dumped me for my fucking *boss*,' would suffice." 

"Your lover." Alex heard the roughness in his voice, but he couldn't do a thing about it. "You just go on thinking that's what I was to you. Maybe the next stupid sonofabitch might believe you when you call *him* that."

"When did this get to be about you, Alex? You're not allowed to bitch at this point. Just get the hell out and go back to Daddy."

Alex bit his tongue, gave himself a moment to savor the vicious warmth, and left. Behind him, some anonymous infomercial blared about the wonders of some anonymous bit of plastic trash.

Everything has its price.

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~

 

* * *

 

Other Paths III: All of the Animals  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: They do not belong to me, damn it all.   
Spoilers: Small, hopeful, Tunguska thoughts. Also small one for One Breath.   
Summary: What we see, what we know.   
Ratings Note: NC-17 for poor, poor language and pretty men doing messy things.   
Author's Note: I dreamed this, more or less. These men won't leave me alone. This is a roughly connected series:  
  "Nameless"  
  "Distance and Possession"  
  "Lucky Men"  
  "Liberty"  
  "All of the Animals"

Only "Lucky Men" and "Liberty" are really necessary to have read first, I think.   
Acknowledgments: To my Sister Blue, for showing me the Lucky Man. To Spike, Rye, and Nancy for wonderful beta, and also to Alicia for many helpful comments.   
Feedback: PLEASE

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths III: All of the Animals  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex Krycek leaned back against the shower wall, careful of the bottle in his hand. Open, tilted away from the stream, slowly depleting. The first thing he'd done after leaving Mulder's place was find himself an all night liquor store. Nothing fancy, just a bottle of J.D., dark and smoky and obliterating. 

The problem had come in trying to find someplace appropriate to appreciate his prize. The great outdoors was both prosaic and far too dangerous these days. One wouldn't have been so bad; both together were unforgivable. There was the option of any one of his hidey holes, but even Mulder's place had been... 

So he'd wound up right back where he'd started from, Walter's place. Had enough time to regret the fact he'd already started drinking as he picked the older man's very new, far too secure locks. And then he'd taken a look around the place, felt a pang of something harsh. It was too clean, too neat, too simple, and the bottle didn't feel any better here. Not even on the balcony...

******

... and he remembered hearing the front door close on Mulder's clumsy, apparently shellshocked attempt to seduce Skinner.

He'd closed his eyes and waited. And waited. He'd awakened to a shiver as his body was finally forced to accept the fact of cold. And waited. Finally, mid-indulgence in a fantasy of his own lashes coated and drooping with sheaths of ice, the door to the apartment had opened. A bare moment to try to kick his brain into gear, make it figure out a way to handle the situation, but then he was being pulled to his feet by his collar.

If there was anyone who could glare like Walter he hadn't met him. Easy to remember other times when those eyes had raked his form, the pleasures that inevitably followed.

"Do you remember when you asked me to lie to you? Sir."

And that had been exactly the way to play it, of course. Warm, calloused hand cushioning the slam of his head with each powerful thrust. His own hand on a warm hip and it felt so good. 

After, Walter had brought him a cup of decaf and they had spoken of other times, other deeds, and he'd looked into the older man's eyes and seen something he knew, very well. And Walter's mouth on his own cock was even less of a surprise than the fact that, in the end, he'd left Alex to sit right there.

"You could untie me.... I'm not going anywhere." He'd meant it, of course. There had been business to be handled. 

"I plan on getting *some* rest tonight..." And there had been a ghost of hesitation, perhaps a bit of speculation in the dark chocolate eyes. But Alex couldn't stop the flow of his own words to try to puzzle out the pause's meaning.

"You could always just handcuff me to the bed, sir." And he'd meant that too, but not enough and clearly not in the right way. Walter had smiled, briefly and a little sadly. And a small part of him knew, then. 

"I plan on getting some rest tonight, Alex."

And he'd smiled back, small and honest and acknowledging, and waited for morning.

******

Back in the present a brief, chill breeze worked over his nape and he could -- almost -- feel a strong arm pulling him back against that massive chest. Feel a chin settle on his shoulder. Sense an ostentatious peer beyond him. Hear a dry, earthen rumble:

"I hope you haven't thrown anyone *else* off my balcony, Alex."

And he could -- almost -- hear exactly how the laugh he'd make would mutate into sobs. And then someone really would have to go off the balcony.

And so he'd taken himself as quietly as possible up the stairs and paused in front of the bedroom door. Took a swig, carefully. He knew it was sheer luck that he hadn't woken Walter already, and though Alex resented the solitude inherent in wakefulness, he also knew he was no fit company. The shower, then, and setting the bottle down just long enough to undress was a trial, and the fact it was a trial made him snarl.

Looking up into darkness, eyes adjusting to a hazy rendering of his usual night vision, Alex watched the steam rise into tiled corners. Wanted to touch it. Knew he'd been drinking for too long. A shadow fell over the curtain, large and silent and Walter- shaped. Alex bit his tongue in an attempt to get himself back under control.

"How long are you planning on staying in there, Alex?"

//I wondered how long you were just going to stand there, Krycek.//

Alex shuddered, and couldn't blame it on the still-warmer-than- tepid water. "Christ, Walter, don't... don't say that." 

Walter threw back the curtain and just looked at him. 

"I suppose there's no point in asking how it went with Mulder."

Alex closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the shower wall. Didn't flinch when Walter reached past him and retrieved the bottle. Allowed himself to be tugged from the shower and dried thoroughly, knowing full well that Walter knew he wasn't nearly as drunk as he was playing it. 

Finally, the towel was slung around his back and he was being efficiently yanked into a kiss that ended with him burying himself in the darkly muscular neck.

"What the hell do you want with me, anyway?"

//Fuck.//

He tried to pull off, make it into a joke but Walter wouldn't let him. That only made him angrier and he heard himself growl. Instant release, which was both appreciated and regretted. He wanted another arm to grab. He did his best to cover his face with his hand, started to turn. Abruptly, there was another hand sliding into place over his left eye.

And he could close his eyes then, and laugh silently at the absurdity. He could rock just a bit, and if the motion led him back into Walter's embrace that was all right, too. Long moments in a bathroom lit only by shameless moonlight. Walter smelled like quiet and sleep, never mind the heat against him, making him smile despite himself.

"Any chance on moving this somewhere I wouldn't have a towel rack digging into my spine?"

Something told Alex that Walter wouldn't have minded letting the small, hot droplet stand on its own, but he played it off with a lick, anyway. 

"Sure thing, Waaalterr..."

Laughing shudder and he was being spun, awkwardly out the door. Into the bedroom, onto the bed. Luxurious, perfect. Gave only just enough. One lazy morning Alex had checked, and was gratified to find solid oak boards resting between the mattress and box spring. Of course. 

Another kiss and when that hand gripped him hard and slick Alex moaned around the calmly possessive tongue before throwing himself back and thrusting up and into the welcoming fist.

"Look at me."

And when he did it was all right to let Walter see it all, just this once, because he knew it would make him happy. 

Afterward, something to be treasured: watching Walter watching him -- the slow burn in the older man's eyes as he licked the wide, hard palm clean; planted an embarrassingly light kiss on the blunt fingers. Alex pushed the older man flat and began to mouth-map the lightly furred torso with slow care.

"I never told you about the Lucky Man, did I, Alex?"

"I never told you how annoying it is that you can hold a conversation in moments like these, did I?"

Walter only met the snark with a chuckle, ran his fingers through the damp, spiky softness of Alex's hair and pulled him closer. "This is important."

Alex quirked an eyebrow, ran a slickly clever tongue around one nipple before rolling off to the side again. The groan was certainly satisfying. "I'm listening."

The cheerful glower promised revenge, the smirk: anticipation. But then Walter's eyes went far away.

"Fortune teller in Saigon. Some sort of runes, figures... I really don't know what to call them. You know what I mean, though?"

Alex nodded.

"Anyway, they were carved on these flat bone discs, and the discs were in this old wooden bowl. Me and Freakshow -- his real name was Foster, you understand -- wound up there Christ only knows how. Mama-san was old and leathery. Looked like you could use her skin to patch a boot. We were both this close to blind on that nasty Vietnamese beer that you really couldn't help but grow to love, after the sixth or seventh--"

"I've learned that tends to be true of any alcoholic beverage."

"Smart ass. This was a *different* sort of love... Anyway. We toss Mama-san a few bills, she shakes the bowl. Out spills this crazy scrawled thing. She points at us and laughs. Says something that I translated, roughly, to "Lucky Man," or maybe "Fortunate One." Close to that, anyway, and I never really wanted to get much deeper than that..."

Alex nodded his understanding, let his hand wander the planes of the familiar chest. Walter caught it briefly, gently. Ran a thumb over his wrist before releasing him again.

"Anyway, we had no idea which one of us she was talking about. Spent the next few days arguing about it at *length*, especially since we both found ourselves back in the shit without getting laid *once*--"

Alex snickered quietly and took it as his cue to start tugging at the boxers. Walter raised his hips helpfully and Alex began planting small kisses in the shallow bowl of the older man's hip. The hand in his hair neither tugged nor petted, it was simply there. 

"Freakshow died not long after that. Sniper fire. Stupid sonofabitch, too. Stood there and *watched* to see if he'd gotten anyone. Well, he had, but so did we. A squad's worth of M-16s can do some damage to a man.... Felt like hours but it was probably only minutes before we turned back for Freakshow." Walter paused then, nearly imperceptibly, but it made Alex eyes narrow slightly. "He'd taken a clean hit to the head and his arms and legs.... Well, he was the rune. The Lucky Man."

Alex stopped, rested his head on the scarred, shifting abdomen and looked up. "A little cosmic irony with your blow job, sir?"

Walter laughed again, not nearly as darkly as the situation seemed to call for. "No, Alex, I don't think so. Or maybe it was. But.... Think of it this way: A few weeks after that the entire squad except for me was mown down in an even nastier fashion. I got to survive, feel my clothes rot on me, hear the voices of the dead and dream of corpses, dancing, dancing...."

"So he was the Lucky Man." 

"Yes, and so was I. I did, after all, get to survive. They told me later that I laughed for days..." Walter trailed off for a bit and Alex settled. He could understand the power of memory. "There was something so... so perfect about the Lucky Man. About a God or perhaps just the random force of the universe showing me so much in a bone, in a casual, meaningless fling of limbs.... In a lot of things, Alex."

Walter caught his eye, then, and the fingers in his hair stiffened slightly. Some things needed acknowledgment. 

"I understand, Walter. I may even believe you, someday."

Gentle, rueful smile. "We take what pleasures we can get, eh?"

There was a long moment in which something inside him swelled to a burning ache, and then he was shaking free and taking the older man as deep as he could, licking and sucking and humming and the helpless spread of powerful thighs to give him easier access, the low, rumbling groans were perfect. No difficulty in this, just the simple joy of pleasuring a man who claimed to have reason to care for him.

He could allow himself this, the luxury of an outer belief. And the small, bright, sharp thing that refused to believe otherwise was just fine, too. It was the sort of pain you grew to love.

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~

 

* * *

 

22 September 1998  
Other Paths IV: Home  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: No, they don't belong to me.... And maybe *they're* happy about that.  
Spoilers: Not a single one.   
Summary: A little honesty.   
Ratings Note: PG-13? Dear Lord, is that even possible?  
Author's Note: I dreamed about this. Again. The series to date:  
  "Nameless"  
  "Distance and Possession"  
  "Lucky Men"  
  "Liberty"  
  "All of the Animals"  
  "Home"

Acknowledgments: To Dawn Sharon, Woodinat, and Kass for providing the distraction I needed to be able to write this story. To Spike and Nancy for endless patience in their beta efforts. To Alicia for many helpful comments.

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths IV: Home  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex Krycek was spending too much time in the 'net cafe, and, as always, the stillness was making that spot just between his shoulder blades itch. He had the distinct sense that he was being watched, but, as that was a familiar sensation, he didn't let it worry him overmuch. There were other concerns. Like just how to respond to Walter's latest e-mail:

"I miss your:  
a) cock  
b) smile  
c) face  
d) ass  
e) sunny disposition.

"Come home. Now."

The man had poetry in his soul. Somewhere.

"Walter,

Was that a love letter or a multiple choice test? I'll be home as soon as I can. Promise."

The concept of home made him feel oddly languid -- a terrifyingly unfamiliar sensation that said "Move. Now." more effectively than most average gunmen. But his lips were twitching in anticipation, and the combination was exhilarating. Another chime.

"Smart-ass. I was supposed to have a meeting ten minutes ago, which was canceled. Eight minutes ago. I wanted to make sure you were clear on the salient points. Just so you don't forget: Come home. I'll be there after 7 p.m."

Alex smiled at the image of exasperation his mind pulled up for Walter. There were few things better than raising the man's blood pressure; the knowledge that the transgression was both allowed and encouraged. And Walter had never failed to make the inevitable revenge entertaining.

"I'll be there. Signing off."

He resisted the urge to see if Walter would send something else. It wasn't really the older man's style, and the itch between his shoulder blades was starting to grow maddening. Time to go.

Out the door and, by chance, a glint of sunlight off the cafe's plate glass window made him turn. A reflection of trench-coated length and terribly familiar chestnut hair. Alex narrowed his eyes and walked on. Slower than he wanted, but this had to be taken care of. He'd only scoped out the area for three square blocks and he needed Mulder to catch up quickly. 

Two blocks. He traced Mulder's progress by the windshields of parked cars. A random breeze and Alex thought he could smell him. He paced himself off and made a quick turn into an alley. Alex figured he'd moved quickly enough to make Mulder hesitate a bit, and he used that time to get ready. As expected, Mulder came in low and quiet, and got a short, sharp blow to the back of the head for his trouble. Just enough to stun.

Alex hauled him up and slammed him against the wall. Pressed an arm against the elegant throat. He knew Mulder wouldn't pay any attention to a gun, at this point.

"Why are you following me?"

Long pause and Alex was forcibly reacquainted with the feel of lean muscles jittering and straining against his own. The scent. But the eyes were... different. 

"What *is* it? What do you want, Mulder?"

A sudden, sunny, reckless smile and Alex had no idea why he'd believed there'd ever be any return to normalcy for the two of them. 

"You, Alex."

There was no normalcy. Alex backed off quickly. He felt burned.

"Mulder... I thought we decided--"

"You made me do some thinking." Mulder licked his lips nervously but his eyes were almost happy. He remained against the wall, but Alex could sense the tension of restrained movement just beneath the flesh. "You were right, Alex..."

Perfectly still but Alex couldn't keep his hand from creeping toward his gun. "Mulder--"

"I *do* chase everyone away. I'm just repeating the same stupid patterns -- Look, the jargon is meaningless--" He cut himself off and *then* he was in motion, one hand moving up and over Alex's cheek -- he flinched, but couldn't make himself back away from the touch -- into his hair. "I want you. I... I need you--"

"Mulder, please, you don't even *know* me--"

Mulder snaked his other arm around Alex's waist and pulled him too close. Too close. The hand in his hair was in constant motion and there was a long, long moment to realize they were both breathing much too hard, to comprehend the shameless heat below. "But you were trying so hard and giving me yourself, I see that now, and I'm sorry. You thought I wasn't paying attention, but I was..." The words were practically breathed into his mouth.

"Please, don't do this--"

And then Mulder kissed him, tongue slipping in with nothing but want and please and Alex thought he might be able to get away with pulling on that tongue, just a little, but Mulder moaned.... The sound was so harsh, so purely, rawly needful that Alex shuddered. And there was no chance to get away with this at all, anymore. The realization was a bare few heartbeats of freedom in which he could pull Mulder closer, run his hand down the spine in light caresses that made the other man writhe--

//Come home.

//Shit.//

Alex pulled away with a raw sound of distress, heart in his throat and throbbing. Mulder started after him but stopped, mercifully, when he shook his head. It was too hard to speak. Mulder bit his lip, hugged himself loosely.

"I was paying attention, I was taking your... I was taking everything you gave me and holding it, I swear. I just couldn't..." Mulder caught his eyes then and everything about the man's pose said things he wished he'd heard a few months ago. Weeks, even. "I was afraid, and I wanted you to hurt me so I could hurt you back. I'm empty now, Alex, and it's even worse than before because I know what it's like now. To have something to hold. I need you."

Alex couldn't stop himself from moving closer, but Mulder kept still this time, letting him make his own pace. "How long will it take you to hate me again, Mulder?"

"What... What do you mean?"

"For being here. Hearing that." Alex reached out, but Mulder's face twisted angrily and he pulled back. "See?"

Another twist and Mulder appeared to be visibly shaking it off. "I know, Alex, I know... It's hard to turn the lens on yourself..." Small smile and Mulder stepped forward again. Just a few feet of want away. "Please. I want to try."

Iron in his mouth and Alex had a moment of muted shock that he'd bitten through his lip. "You don't understand... I've got something... I've got something good now."

//Fuck, fuck, fuck...//

"And we were bad for each other."

"Mulder--"

The voice was resigned, darkly humorous. "No, it's all right. You're right. We were bad for each other. I was bad for us."

"It's not--"

"It *is*, Alex--"

"Dammit, let me talk for just a minute, all right?"

Mulder's teeth clicked shut and he rocked a bit on his heels before nodding. It was one of the more hideously painful things he'd ever had to watch.

"Walter..." A flinch. "Walter is good to me. He loves me and I... I love him."

"Alex--"

"Please, Mulder." His own voice was far too low. "I've fucked so many things up..." He couldn't help reaching out again, running his hand over the pale cheek, trying not to notice the circles under Mulder's eyes. "I've got a chance for something here, Mulder. Please. I don't want to fuck anything else up."

Mulder caught his hand and held it against his face. "Neither do I, Alex. There's so much ugly and wrong between us -- It can't already be too late."

Not really a question but far too close for comfort. "I... I can't, Mulder. I have to go. Let me go... please."

One last squeeze and Mulder released his hand and it hurt to pull it away, and it hurt to turn away, and it hurt to walk away. 

But it was time to go home.

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~

 

* * *

 

22 September 1998  
Other Paths V: Weapons  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: They belong to the Surfer Boy, but he doesn't love them like *I* do... Often.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Decisions.  
Ratings Note: NC-17  
Author's Note: I dreamed this. Again. The series is as follows:  
  "Nameless"  
  "Distance and Possession"  
  "Lucky Men"  
  "Liberty"  
  "All of the Animals"  
  "Home"  
  "Weapons"

Pray for my subconscious, would you?   
Acknowledgments: To Dawn Sharon, Alicia, and Kass for distracting me enough to write this and to Spike and Nancy for fine, fine beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.  
Feedback: PLEASE.

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths V: Weapons  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Skinner walked into his apartment and couldn't keep from smiling. Even without the more obvious signs -- boots by the door, leather tossed in an oddly *deliberate* fashion on the couch -- he could always tell when Alex was home. The place had a fullness, even when the other man was just lazing neatly and quietly in some corner of his bedroom. 

Which he wasn't. Walter took a moment to listen, and heard a series of soft, economical grunts coming from the small gym he'd installed in the spare bedroom. He cocked an eyebrow and walked in. Alex was kicking the hell out of his punching bag. He hadn't bothered to change out of his regular clothes and his shirt was clinging to his back. The jeans had torn. 

It was clear Alex had been here for a while. Another flurry of kicks. He knew that Alex knew he was there, but he didn't turn. Walter was just about to settle himself in to wait when Alex started punching. He hadn't taped his knuckles and by the fifth... Walter caught the arm, felt muscles twitch like snakes for a moment before the younger man subsided.

"Talk to me."

Tight shake of the damply dark head and Alex was leaning into the bag, breathing hard. A few drops of sweat hit the hardwood floor.

"Alex--"

"Do you really want to know?" He turned then and Walter took in the heavy flush, the overbright eyes, the set of the fine mouth. He ran his thumb over Alex's wrist and the other man shivered. "Do you?"

Walter thought about the question as his hand roamed up the tensed arm; the skin damp and sticky even through the shirt. Alex looked at him evenly, but it was a deceptive blankness. There *had* been other times when he'd found Alex here, working off the aggression of a bad day while honing the machine to higher and higher levels of lethality. The mindset was more than familiar. 

This wasn't the same. Alex would simply have said "Don't ask" if it was. Walter settled his palm on the nape. "Yeah, I want to know."

Alex turned away again, but shifted to give Walter better access to his neck and shoulders. "Mulder wants me back." Spoken into the bag, uneven and with an edge of black humor.

Walter felt something clench...

//Don't leave me.//

... but settled for pressing his fingers a little harder into Alex's skin. "Of course he does."

The brow furrowed and Alex moved a little against the bag. Rough whisper of canvas on flesh. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that if he *hadn't* tried to get you back at some point I would've had to consider committing him for real." 

Alex snorted at that, but it was muted. "Walter..."

//Don't leave me.//

"What did he say?"

"That he was sorry, that I was right, that he... that he needed me. And then he kissed me, and I let him."

//Don't leave me.//

Walter let his hand wander into the spiky hair, tried to tug Alex into facing him. "What else?"

"That it was empty without me.... I told him I loved you..." The words should've been a redundancy; Alex had said it in a dozen different ways in the past weeks, but there was thickness in Walter's throat. 

//Don't leave me.//

"...that I didn't want to... want to fuck anything else up." Alex looked at him, finally, and his eyes were much too open for this. Too early in the day, too much distance between them.... Walter pulled Alex close. "I didn't, right?" Muttered into his throat and Walter pushed him off again, took in the flash of fear and anger with a pang and crushed Alex's mouth with his own.

It tasted like tears, and the unspoken "Because it feels like I did" was louder in his ears than the pounding of his pulse. Walter poured every command, wish, and plea he had into the kiss and was terrifyingly positive Alex heard them all. But there was a shaky arm around his neck and a tongue in his mouth and a lean body sweaty and solid against him and there was no chance of thinking this through.

Alex broke off for air, nuzzled him restlessly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, Walter. Shit, I'm such an idiot--"

"Shh... You're not, don't do this--"

"I'm not cut out for this... this... this isn't who I'm supposed to be. I only wanted--"

Walter kissed him again, plunging in and lapping, trying to take away air if he couldn't take reason and thought. When he had to break the kiss to breathe himself Alex smiled at him sadly, tightened the arm around his back.

"He's not like us, Walter. He can't... he doesn't know..." Alex trailed off with a frown and the older man resisted the urge to kiss him again. Weapons lose their power when the targets know them well enough.

"You can't take responsibility for his pain, Alex.

//Don't leave me.//

"He had these... these problems long before you came into his life..." It was pointless to try to assuage the guilt, they both knew it was only a mask for a darker truth. Alex bit at Walter's jaw, laid a kiss against the small hurt before working his way to the older man's ear.

"Just... just make me forget." Hoarse pleading in desperately quiet whisper and all Walter could do was nod and let himself be led from the gym and into the darkened bedroom. 

He reached for the light-switch and Alex caught his hand, brought it to his crotch instead. Heat and hardness and Walter growled his understanding into Alex's throat and spun him around to face the wall. Shifted position to get a better grip on the other man's erection and placed a kiss on the salt-sweaty nape.

//I'll give you this, and anything else...//

A few moments to knead at the heat through denim and then Walter was working the jeans off down legs sweaty and much too warm. Feverish with all the anger and confusion. Walter lapped at the hollow of a knee and Alex trembled.

"Don't, I need you *now*, Walter... don't tease."

It was a new pain to lose this permission to linger, but as Walter stood to retrieve the condoms and slick he had the distinct impression it was one he'd have to grow accustomed to. 

Alex hissed at the chill of the gel. Walter used the opportunity to pull him tighter, to whisper low and careful inanities as he slipped his finger inside. Much slower than was strictly necessary. Alex bucked sharply against him and Walter groaned.

"Easy... I'm getting there."

"Please..."

But Walter couldn't force himself to move any faster, needing the tightness on his fingers as much as anything else, the feel of Alex's body working desperately against his own. He raked his knuckles over the gland and Alex's moan made him reach up to tilt the dark head awkwardly for a kiss of needs.

"Now, Walter..." And it wasn't dark enough for him to miss the gleam on the surface of the wide eyes, the bleak beneath. Alex turned, spread, braced himself against the wall and Walter obeyed. Fitting up and slipping in, too fast for the soul, too slow for the flesh and when he was all the way in, balls flush and tightening, he steadied himself against the wall with one hand and wrapped the other around Alex. Just one more moment to hold and hold closer and he let his hips take over, let his face fall into the hollow of neck and shoulder, let everything he wanted to say be drowned in his own shallow grunts and the sobs of his lover.

After, there were a few sleepy nuzzles in the shadows, on the bed.

And when Walter woke up alone he wasn't at all surprised.

******

Alex stood outside the apartment, one last time. His own scent was wrong to him -- he had stopped at one of the hidey holes to shower and change and there was nothing of Walter about him but an ache in his soul. Just another wrong, and there was no way he could tell himself this was right enough to make up for it. There was no rational tally he could hold his life up to anymore and his instincts felt miswired.

But he was here, now. Quiet knock and just enough time to feel himself split a little farther apart before the door opened on a rumpled, grainy Mulder. Hazy around the edges and raw in the eyes. Long moment to stare, savor the bitterness of certain inevitabilities.

"The last thing I need from you is pity." Low, hoarse.

"This isn't pity, Mulder. Let me in." 

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~

 

* * *

 

22 September 1998  
Other Paths VI: Harder To Hold  
by Te  
9/98  
Disclaimers: They do not belong to me, I really hope I don't get sued.   
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Everybody does some thinking.   
Ratings Note: NC-17 for m/m sex, poor language.  
Author's Note: All hurting, all the time. No, wait, sorry. This is another part of the _Other Paths_ universe. To date:  
  "Nameless"  
  "Distance and Possession"  
  "Lucky Men"  
  "Liberty"  
  "All of the Animals"  
  "Home"  
  "Weapons"  
  "Harder To Hold"

You should probably read the others first, I think.   
Acknowledgments: To Viridian and Kass, for distracting me enough to actually write this. To Spike and Nancy for fine, patient beta, and to Dawn Sharon for many helpful suggestions. All remaining errors are my own.  
Feedback: PLEASE

* * *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Other Paths VI: Harder To Hold  
by Te  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let me in."

The words hit Mulder like a slam to the chest. A blink and he was shocked to find Alex still that same distance away, still outside his apartment. The wide eyes were shadowed, the stance patient. Mulder thought he felt a hum, but he couldn't deny the possibility that the tension was his own.

"Alex."

He couldn't say more than that -- there was too much his mind was punishing him for saying earlier -- but Alex simply nodded and walked in. He might've taken a step back to make it easier to close the door, but Mulder couldn't say for sure. Alex was there, nothing but a meaningless few layers of cloth and air separating them. Mulder's hands ached to touch and he indulged, cupping the smooth, cool face and tugging the man closer. 

Alex moved within the clasp of the hands and he couldn't tell if it was a nuzzle or negation but it felt wonderful and he leaned in to breathe against the other man's mouth.

"What does this mean to you, Mulder?"

"Everything." And it hurt to say but the rightness was undeniable and Alex's harsh pant was response enough and more and they were moving. Alex's kiss was soft, sweet despite the acid of something Mulder didn't want to think about and it felt so good...

It was awkward to hold the other man's face this way but Mulder didn't want to chance letting go; the rest of him was too cold and Alex wasn't holding him yet. Mulder coaxed the younger man's tongue into his mouth with his own, pulled on it to hear him moan and then Alex was pulling away.

//Not again...//

He felt no shame in moving after him; didn't hesitate to bury himself against Alex's throat, plead with the loose circle of his arms around the other man's waist. And when a trembling hand shaped itself to the back of his skull, fingers slipping through his hair, he felt real triumph. Sharp, brittle victory destined to corrode into guilt some cold morning, but here, now, simply perfect. Mulder kissed his way up the fine column of throat, acknowledging the lightening marks -- too visible in the dimness -- with small kisses. 

Alex's hand tightened briefly in his hair and he was being tugged up again, into a bruising kiss that made his knees weak. He cried out into it, messy and open mouthed and good and that arm was finally slipping under his own --the brush of leather on the flesh of his bicep was cold and suggestive --pulling him close into the warmth he needed. 

It occurred to Mulder he would be happy just to stand here; the two of them kissing and moving each other into positions of increasingly pleasurable discomfort, for however long it was allowed. There were too many things requiring forgiveness to be considered, a mess of irrelevancies -- relative to *this* -- that could do nothing to obscure the concept of Chance. 

Not so many nights ago Mulder had sat on the couch and done his best to ignore the damp glitter on Alex's eye as he walked out of his life, but some things were too important to be pushed aside for the cold comfort of the familiar... and perhaps that was the point. There was a slowing to this, a gradual acceptance of each other that had more to do with the conversation they weren't having than the heat that brushed and brushed again each time they moved closer.

A breath and Mulder realized this had been going on for some time, brief breaks for air before taking each other's mouths again. His eyes were closed and he found his way back to where he belonged by touch, brushing and nuzzling over the cheek, wondering if Alex was watching him, what he was thinking beyond the press of bodies and the man trying very hard to drink his soul...

//I need you.//

And that was all it took to increase the urgency again, to make his hands roam the lean form, creep under the jacket to an arching heat, damp with sweat and soothing to his hands. Everything was right about this and when Alex broke the kiss to nibble along the line of his jaw, to caress his ear with a sharp, clever tongue, Mulder could only clasp tighter and hope.

"I need to make love to you, Mulder." And the words were breathed into his ear, such a simple statement of fact and it hurt, deeply, that Alex felt the need to say it. "Will you let me?" To ask.

Almost too much to answer but Mulder knew exactly what it would feel like if that arm let him go again.... "Please..." And he leaned into the slow nuzzle, bucked once when sharp teeth tested his earlobe. "Yes, Alex, yes..."

Another harsh breath and Mulder was aware he'd never asked what this meant to Alex at the same time he was aware he didn't have to. 

"All right, all right..." And Alex was kissing him again, his ear, cheeks, and eyelids before coming back to his mouth and Mulder was surprised at the pain and happier than he could remember being in a long while. Finally, they were moving back towards the bedroom. He'd changed the sheets in those first manic hours after Alex had left but not again. Dust and clutter was nothing against the presence of the man and the bed was too large for this. A flat, soft opportunity to share space without touching. It seemed criminal that such things could exist. 

Alex ran his hand under Mulder's t-shirt and he arched into the touch, this overt proof of complicity soothing enough for Mulder to stop touching Alex long enough to remove the thing. Alex immediately pushed him flat, rested lean and still-clothed weight along his own and began licking at a nipple. The touch was light and relentless and Mulder was irrationally positive he was being eroded a little with each lap. The mindless rub of denim heat pushed his sweats down to become a chafe of frustration against his hip.

Gradually, Mulder became aware of an increase in pressure. When Alex started using his teeth a flood of mores began piling up against the wall of his throat. It seemed too dangerous to make demands, but he could and did arch into the touch, shift a bit to encourage Alex to rest more of his weight on him.

******

Alex could neither make himself stop tasting Mulder, nor could he shut off the needfully clamoring segment of his brain that insisted on making comparisons. Smaller, smoother, somehow thicker and blander on his tongue. He was awash with want, as opposed to simply being pierced by the blunt, salty solidity of Walter. Alex was hazy with it, lost in the dust and spiraling desire. Far too intoxicating. He felt a need for focus and began to bite, an attempt to force himself back into the reality of his present situation.

Mulder's cries did the job and he pulled off, alarmed at the hint of iron in his mouth.

"Oh, God, Mulder, I didn't mean--"

But Mulder only pulled him in for a kiss, slender fingers plucking and tearing at his clothes. 

"It's OK... feels good... need you..." Words breathed between kisses. Absurd to need reassurance in this, but he did. Alex had a moment to wonder just when this *had* gotten to be about him before Mulder was cupping him through the cotton of his boxers. Clever fingers to get him free and this was nothing at all like Walter.

Mulder was harder on him. He felt a bone deep thrill at the sheer, transparent need in the man -- eyes gone greenly electric in a way he doubted his own eyes could achieve. He let Mulder roll him over, felt the tongue dip into his navel, the mouth hover over his cock before descending in a series of sweetly painful brushes. It wasn't supposed to be quite this way, but there was no room for complaint. 

At least, there shouldn't have been, not with the ease with which his hand flowed through the sweat damp hair, over the skull that occasionally moved away from it's ministrations to nuzzle further into his palm. Everything about Mulder was a demonstration. There should have been some obscenity about the careless offer of the older man's vulnerability, but all it did was remind him of the way Walter would touch him. 

Absurd to be in a situation like this. A source of pain that was purely emotional, and thus shameful. There was no reason for him to be here, writhing into the loving -- there was no other way to consider them -- caresses of a truly beautiful, truly fucked up man and thinking of another. He already knew who he'd be thinking of were he to go back to Walter. If Walter would even take him back. 

Mulder's mouth on him was hardly unfamiliar but the care was... Alex had no idea how he could keep from hurting anyone, and no idea how to forget. Even for just a few moments...

But then Mulder let his tongue get into it and Alex opened his eyes to find himself being watched gravely as Mulder slipped down and down. Snapped back and all he could do was buck, and all Mulder did was close his eyes and take it. 

There was no safety here, and redemption seemed utterly out of reach. Alex looked at himself and saw a man without even half the strength necessary to resist the endless requests for punishment that Mulder seemed to radiate like other men's sweat. There was too much beauty in the suffering, too much promise in the pale, inviting skin. 

//I can't do this.//

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deeper still and Mulder began to hum. He heard himself cry out, allowed a slip to Russian and could only hope he'd be able to keep names out of it entirely. Alex wanted to run, fast and far. His mind showed him reel after reel of his fresh starts, and even though he knew how all those starts had ended, there was a certain attraction to the rebirth of anonymity. He could find some other way to do what needed to be done. Perhaps even be someone else entirely this time... as opposed to the man being driven insane by the finger in his ass and the sleeve of want wetly chafing his cock.

Graze of teeth and the heat ratcheted up, finally, beyond the realm of thought. He was his cock, and there was nothing he needed more than *this*, right here, and for the space of several heartbeats it was as true as anything else. 

After, there was a time to let the sound of their breathing become too loud, too feel a sort of restive burrowing into the shallow bowl of his hipbone. Moments passed and then Mulder crawled up along his body and gave him a kiss of himself

//How can you want this?//

that lasted far too long. Alex could feel the other man's urgency with the ceaseless rocking against too-sensitive flesh and made a conscious effort to clear his head. For this night, at least, he could try to give Mulder everything he had.

******

Walter took a sip of the industrial coffee and grimaced. Leaned back into the cheap velour seat of the rental and scowled. He'd forgotten just what a royal pain in the ass surveillance was. However, there was caffeine, and there was camouflage. For now, at least, it was precisely what he needed.

He'd lain in bed and brooded over Alex's departure for well over an hour. It had taken that long to recognize what he was doing. The realization was acutely embarrassing. He was neither so old nor so

//Weak.//

patient as to accept Alex leaving. Not without a word or two. They were both *too* old for that sort of bullshit. And so he'd gotten up, gotten dressed, and gotten himself here -- Hegel Place -- and there was no doubt in his mind that this was where Alex had wound up. Even without knowing what kind of

//Or whose.//

car the younger man had been driving he could *feel* him here. An itch at the base of his spine. A chill on the palms that needed Alex's skin to warm them. And there was no doubt in his mind that Alex would be leaving this place, eventually. 

It wasn't so much a belief in his own irresistibility as the comfortable simplicity of knowledge. There was a part of Alex that *was* him, above and beyond the large part of himself that simply belonged to the other man. This was both possession and kinship. This was a need he felt no reason to deny. There were some things more important than even dignity.

And, as far as he was concerned, Alex only *thought* he understood that.

Nearly dawn and there he was. Walter sank as low as possible in the seat, adjusted the worn cap. Surprisingly, Alex didn't stop at *any* of the nearby cars, just set out on foot. He kept to the limited shadows of the Alexandria dawn and moved efficiently. Walter gritted his teeth, waited until Alex was far enough away to consider the sound a coincidence, and then started the car. 

Walter could imagine how Alex would stiffen as the car came alongside him. Probably already shifting a bit to make the gun just that fraction more convenient to his hand. 

//I know you, Alex...//

He pulled off the cap and pulled up to the curb. Let himself be seen and recognized. Let himself be a little hurt by the worry in the wide, familiar eyes, a little warmed by the clearly unconscious welcome. Rolled down the passenger window.

"Get in, Alex."

Alex quirked an eyebrow at the order, but it was a shadow of the usual instinctive mockery. 

"Please." And the pain in saying it was as much in the knowledge of his manipulation as in the old distaste for exposure. However, it served the purpose of getting the man in the car, and that was something which couldn't be discounted. He smelled of Mulder, though, a wash of fresh game and expensive cologne that made him ache to bite. Walter took in the form slumped in the passenger seat and wondered what approach to take.

"Why did you leave? Do you love him more?"

//Well, no one ever accused me of subtlety.//

"Shit, Walter, ask the easy questions, why don't you?"

Walter didn't bother to answer, simply shifted in the seat to face him, fully aware that he was glaring. The effect on Alex was always the same, an odd combination of blush and smirk that settled heavily in his chest and groin. 

//Is it their newness that makes your buttons irresistible?//

Alex leaned back into the headrest, threw out his legs in a position that seemed wrong to Walter at first. At least for this man. He used the time Alex spent thinking to consider it, then nearly hauled the man across the seat and into his arms. He was *relaxed*. At ease. Sprawled and beautiful. Walter settled for breathing deeply.

"You know, I have no idea what this is, really. I love you and Mulder... Mulder *does* something to me. It's stupid, wrong, and dangerous--"

"Hardly new to you."

Alex snorted quietly, scrubbed his face with his hand. There was a brief, raspy whisper of stubble. "No, Walter, not new. But hard to... resist. Remind me why you aren't fucking him again?"

The expression was so genuinely puzzled Walter had to chuckle. "Would it make it easier on you if I was?"

Alex brightened almost immediately and Walter wondered if everyone felt the urge to kill their beloved, now and again. If only to keep the pain as fresh and clean forever as it was in these moments. 

//I'm not letting you leave again.//

The brief moment of sunshine passed, though, and Alex laughed a little bitterly. "But it's not going to happen that way. If I locked the two of you in a small room with some lube and a bearskin rug would all that bristling would become more sexual?" 

Walter laughed, slipped a hand between the car seat and Alex's neck. The younger man shifted into the touch automatically. "He's just not my... type, Alex."

Alex was shaking, but the laughter was nearly silent. Finally, he turned to look at Walter. "You *have* noticed that mouth, haven't you?"

"I have."

"And the ass."

"That, too."

"But... you're not interested."

"I'm not saying I'd *necessarily* kick him out of bed if he crawled in after me one night..." Alex shuddered under his hand. "But I'd probably spend the next several weeks trying to un-make the event. How much does a mind-wipe go for these days?"

The smile was a wickedness in delight. "I could probably hook you up pretty easily, Waaaalterrr..."

He let his thumb dig lightly into Alex's nape and the dark head tilted back, the eyes closed. "He's not going to let you go, you know. No matter how far you run. And..."

Movement under the soft lids and Walter wondered what Alex was seeing. 

"And what?"

"Neither am I." 

Another shudder under his hand and Alex was sliding across the seat himself, burrowing and nuzzling himself against Walter's body. Solidity and so much warmth...

//How could you think I would?//

"I wouldn't want you to, Walter..." Soft kisses on his throat, moving up over his jaw, settling less on his mouth than near it. Alex looked up at him through his lashes. "But I don't seem to be handling this monogamy thing very well, either..."

He took the invitation for what it was and kissed Alex deeply, doing his best to pull the man into his lap and failing in the most pleasant way imaginable. No matter what he smelled like, he tasted just fine. Alex pushed off with a hand that lingered, wonderfully, on his chest and found a way to lounge between Walter and the steering wheel. His head was resting on Walter's arm, which in turn was resting on the door -- prudently below the window. The position invited touch and Walter complied, running a hand over the torso, losing himself in the feel of lean muscle -- so tantalizingly close under the thin shirt.

Alex allowed himself to be petted for several silent moments before catching Walter's wandering hand. "I'm doing it again."

"What, Alex?"

"The old 'I've been a bad boy, please fuck me stupid and forget about it' routine."

Walter chuckled. "This is supposed to surprise me? I fell in love with you, Alex, not your attempts to behave. Though they are adorable..."

Alex looked peeved for a fraction of a second, then proceeded to shift wonderfully half-on, half-off Walter's lap and released the hand to wander again. "So what do I tell Mulder?"

Walter grabbed the other man by the crotch and squeezed with a sort of gentle implacability. Growled. "That he'll learn to share or I'll break his neck." It was a pleasure to watch the pupils dilate, the lips part for a quick swipe of the tongue. He removed his hand, reveled in the immediate snarl. "In fact, you should probably tell him now."

"Why?" Dangerously low voice and Walter knew this morning wouldn't end until he'd had the other man. Or else. For now, though...

"Think it through, Alex. How long is it going to take him to start brooding about your absence? Don't you have enough angst to put up with already?"

A quick snicker and then Alex was arching up to kiss him again, fast and lovely, before curling himself out of Walter's lap. The absence was maddening, but he'd said his piece. 

"You're right, of course, Walter." One last grin tossed over his shoulder... "I'll be back as soon as I can," and Alex was out of the car.

//You better.//

A part of him knew it wasn't going to be this easy, but Walter had made his decision, and that in itself was a weight off his soul.

~~~~  
End.  
~~~~


End file.
